A young boy stands silently amongst family members he hardly knew as they sobbed openly for the man being lowered into the freshly dug grave. The marbled tombstone told him the deceased man was his grandfather, and though he had been told so much about him, he didn’t actually know him. Patiently he stood and stared into a distant yonder whilst all around him sadness and grief consumed his family.
After what seems like an eternity, his father tapped him on the shoulder and, whilst still consoling his heartbroken wife, my mother, he encouraged me to join them as they made their way back to the waiting car. It would take them to the local pub where there was to be a party, but not a party. He wasn’t really that bothered what it was, only that there was food. He was starving.
Once at the pub, strangers with familiar names like Aunt and Great Aunt, Uncle and Great Uncle mingled and waiting patiently to pay their respects to his parents. The young lad might as well of not been there for no-one seemed to want to talk to him. That suited him just fine as he’d had about as much as he could take with all the tears and crying. Instead he slipped away unnoticed on the hunt for something to eat.